like an atmosphere around me
by Narquelie
Summary: In Will's eyes – soulful, beautiful, filled with love – she sees a reminder that she's no longer alone. No longer a shivering mess of fake smiles and nightmares and dreams of death. That she's not cursed. That she has a family. [Riley/Will] [Post-S1]


She is Wolfgang when she parks the rental car at the back of a seedy motel near Rennes, the envelope of cash heavy in her coat pocket. She takes in her surroundings, her body taut like a string, hands aching for the reassuring weight of a gun.

She is Lito when she walks up to the reception desk; tells a convincing story about losing her documents. Smiles, nervously, though her voice doesn't shake. Pays in cash.

She is Capheus when she settles Will on the bed in their dark motel room, her aching limbs forgotten, even when she locks the door and closes the blinds; unpacks her bag of sedatives, unplugs the TV from the wall.

She is Riley when she collapses on top of the covers. Presses herself to Will's side. Falls asleep.

.

.

.

She throws up in the motel bathroom – her whole body shakes, feels so hot, almost feverish. Kala holds back her hair. She rubs soothing circles on her back and Riley wills herself to relax, leaning back into her touch. It feels so natural, this closeness, even though it's been barely 48 hours since the first time they've seen each other.

"I'm so exhausted," she whispers, closing her eyes.

Kala combs her fingers through Riley's matted hair. "I know," she says, and she does, utterly, in this moment somehow knows her better than herself, "you're still in shock. You need more rest."

Sun hands her a glass of water. It suddenly feels crowded in this tiny bathroom but Riley finds that she doesn't mind – it fills out the void in her heart, chases away the numbness she feared would consume her. Nomi smiles at them from her place against the side of the tub, her eyes crinkling at the corners, worn-out but victorious, and it feels – strangely, finally – like being home.

.

.

.

The shower is on. She can feel the hot water running down her body, relaxing her tense muscles. The smell of cheap, generic soap reminds her of a hospital –

She's on a plane. Wolfgang sits to her left, whiskey in his hand. He looks at her dubiously, as if he can't understand why she'd be here, which frankly, neither can she. She's on the plane and under the stream of water, the smell of soap mixing with leather, plastic and an undercurrent of instant coffee she associates with flying, she's moving and standing still; her head starts to spin.

Wolfgang presses his glass into her hands. "Drink," he says, and for a second he looks like Nomi. "Then go back to him."

Will comes out of the shower.

He's wearing low-hanging sweatpants and a navy t-shirt she – Lito – picked up on their way, the thin fabric stretching over his biceps, his shoulders, his chest. Riley's mouth goes dry.

Propped up against the headboard of their queen sized bed, with her knees pulled up to her chest she feels overwhelmed by his presence; he towers over her, radiating strength and authority and –

– and when she looks into his eyes, it feels like her heart might burst right out of her chest.

He approaches her slowly, and she breathes through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart. He kneels by the side of the bed, so that their faces are on the same level.

"Are you alright?", he asks softly.

She has their answer on the tip of her tongue, _sometimes_ , but it's no longer enough. In Will's eyes – soulful, beautiful, filled with love – she sees a reminder that she's no longer alone. No longer a shivering mess of fake smiles and nightmares and dreams of death. That she's not cursed.

That she has a family.

"Yes."

That she has him.

He puts his hand on her bare calf, and it feels like an electric shock running through her veins, setting her body alight. Riley leans forward, hungry for his touch, hungry for _him_ , her legs falling open. She knows Will feels it too, sees it in his blown wide pupils and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The warmth of his hand bleeds into her skin and she moves closer, pushes into his touch.

A flash of regret crosses his face, and then he draws back, eyebrows furrowed in worry. Shakes his head. "You should drug me again."

She stops, her hand clutching the headboard tightly for balance. "Why? Has he visited you?"

"No," he says, "but he's going to, any time now."

The room is dark, not even a sliver of light makes it through the blinds. The TV is silent, unhelpful, the doors locked. Riley leans into him, fingers curling into the navy fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him close. "He won't find anything here."

Will's jaw flexes, grasping for restraint as she presses her lips lightly to his. It's the barest of touches but it feels like a lightning strike, and when he puts his hands on her hips to steady her it sends sparks of pleasure all over her body, right to the tips of her toes.

"What if he switches with me?" he breathes against her lips, their noses touching.

Riley narrows her eyes in a vaguely threatening manner that's so characteristic of Sun and smiles Wolfgang's smile. "Then I'll switch too."

.

.

.

It goes like this: he pulls her on top of himself and covers her body with kisses that seem to burn through her skin and melt her bones. His touch is gentle, reverent, he touches her like she's something fragile, something precious, like _he loves her_ (and he does, he whispers it into her skin, paints the words with his lips across her body). Riley is drowning in it – in the euphoria, in the bliss – sees herself through his eyes; the way she arches her back and tilts her head up, scrapes her nails against his chest –

And then – he is inside her and her bones shatter.

The world tilts on its axis.

She breathes.

.

.

.

There is a knock on the door. Riley makes a move to rise, then realizes it's actually Will who's propped himself on his elbow. She laughs into the crook of his neck, her voice mixing with his, and reminds herself which limbs are her own –

She's outside, wearing a leather jacket that's too warm for this weather, two heavy bags slung over her shoulder. She feels a bead of sweat trail down her back and it only fuels her exasperation. She knocks again –

– Riley opens the door and Wolfgang steps in, throwing his bags to the floor. His irritation subsides when he takes her in, lips curling upwards slightly – then, a full smile lights up his face and he's Capheus and he's pulling her into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around her, lifting her from the ground. "It's good to finally see you in person," he says in a voice made up of six different ones.

Will comes up behind her, his fingers grazing her lower back. He joins them in a one-armed hug, filled with such joy and optimism Riley's heart seems to swell with it – and in that moment she finally believes, that they will make it; that they'll be fine.

When Wolfgang comes back to himself, Capheus's smile stays on his face. He opens one of his bags. A shiny black gun is the first thing that catches Riley's eye.

" _Let's get to work."_


End file.
